


Repetition

by denebola (MabelLover)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Read at Your Own Risk, Unfinished, cause i don't have more ideas, do you want to get this off my hands, there's a reason to why i choose not to use warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelLover/pseuds/denebola
Summary: History goes round and round and so do three sisters, one who's lost to madness by questioning, one who's lost to solitude by defiance, and one who's lost to silence by saving the others.Callidora, Carina and Capella Lestrange know what is right and what is wrong but that notion gets a little skewed as time passes.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange
Kudos: 2





	Repetition

**Author's Note:**

> Uhmm, I hope you read the tags. Seriously.

For three different times, Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her children.

The first time, Callidora, the eldest, named after a bloodtraitor to redeem that same name, asked who the black patches on the Tapestry were and when told that they were filthy people who consorted with mudbloods she asked _why_ it was wrong. Eyes bright in defiance, black hair and fair features, Callidora stood next to the patch that used to house Andromeda Black and screamed, cried, but never broke. The twins, Carina and Capella, watched, horrified, as their sister trashed on the ground, heard bones break, wounds marring the girl’s skin. And then, just as coldly as she always treated her children, Bellatrix healed the wounds she inflicted and approached her first-born, speaking directly into her ear.

“ _Do not question me ever again, Callidora Druella Lestrange._ ”

And the life in Lestrange Castle went on as normal, three adults killing and torturing and three children running around. You’d swear the girls were specters, never seen, never heard, but definitely there.

Their mark wasn’t left in drawings or noise, but in how the mudbloods in the dungeons got a piece of bread or how the girl that uncle Rabastan was using, no older than ten, got ice, or how the children that were thrown away after dying from their wounds got a pretty place for a grave, under a willow tree in the gardens, the only place that had some beauty in the dreary Castle.

Small acts of rebellion that went unnoticed because of the simple lack of regard the Lestranges had for these girls. Had they been boys, they’d grown up with blood on their hands instead of grime, blood placed there by the same people who were supposed to keep it away. They never complained, however, and kept questioning and disagreeing quietly, refusing to break.

The second time, Carina watched her body bleed from a million different papercuts, her blood smearing across the book she’d stolen from the Library. It was an old book about bloodlines, one that kept the people disowned by their families and displayed the halfbloods and squibs and the mudbloods that came after generations of no magic. She’d hoped that they’d be gone for just a few more hours, just enough to read the book and put it back without being noticed, but they came back and Carina watched Bellatrix conjure smalls worms with horrifying teeth that went up her arms and slipped inside her skin and ate her flesh as she burned alive, the pain paralyzing her, being taken almost to the point of unconsciousness. Only then did Bellatrix stop, and she healed her child, kneeling on the floor to reach the girl’s ear.

“ _Do not defy me ever again, Carina Walburga Lestrange._ ”

From then on, the girls concluded that they had to leave. The specters that lived in Lestrange Castle began to plan their escape, only to discover that they knew next to nothing about the outside world. They knew of their aunt Narcissa and their cousin Regulus and even about those that were no longer aunt and cousin, they knew about the different parties that fought for power in the Ministry, they knew of the ingredients of the Cure for Boils and how to make a feather levitate, but not where the British Isles were or the name of the town next to Lestrange Castle. They didn’t know what was needed to survive nor what normal children look like. Yet, they believed that anything was better than staying and becoming dark patches in the Tapestry and small bodies that burned in the fireplace.

The third time, Capella took too long to jump the wall and was dragged down by a furious Bellatrix as her sisters sneaked back in to watch the bloodied, broken mess that was Capella being offered to their uncle Rabastan by a Bellatrix with a maniacal smile and a dagger filled with blood. The girls watched what no child should watch, and Capella stayed silent and empty, not reacting even when Bellatrix reached down to her.

“ _Do not run from me ever again, Capella Narcissa Lestrange._ ”

From then on, they stayed put in their room, studying quietly, avoiding the adults and anything that could put Bellatrix off. They spoke only when spoken to, eyes filled with fear of doing something, anything. Capella spoke no more, not to her twin, not to Callidora. The specters of Lestrange Castle became statues.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you want to write this? cause I have no more patience for it and it's been sitting in my computer for ages. if you do, just comment?


End file.
